


Dating with Friends

by Pollydoodles



Series: The Wider Pizza-Verse [6]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 12:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5967652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollydoodles/pseuds/Pollydoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re doing what?”</p><p>Steve’s voice cracked slightly as he spoke and he gazed down at her in utter bewilderment. </p><p>“Alright, Cap,” Darcy huffed, indignant in her response. “There’s no need to be quite so amazed. It’s actually a pretty normal activity, one even I’ve engaged in once or twice before over the years.” She pushed at his chest impatiently to move him out of the way and get past, and, mind churning painfully over her previous declaration, he shuffled back obediently at her touch without really thinking. </p><p>“But- but-“ He stammered after her retreating back, and just about had the wherewithal to grasp at her elbow before she disappeared completely. Drawing her back to him gently, her confused blue eyes met his own. He exhaled heavily before being able to speak again. </p><p>“But what, Steve?” Darcy gazed up at him, uncomprehendingly. “It’s a date. A blind date. People date, you know.  It’s a whole thing. There’s websites. Phone apps. TV shows, even.” She listed them off on her fingers whilst her words spilled out, her speech picking up speed and he could tell that she wasn’t really on-board with what she was saying. </p><p>“But what about Bucky?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dating with Friends

“You’re doing what?”

Steve’s voice cracked slightly as he spoke and he gazed down at her in utter bewilderment. 

“Alright, Cap,” Darcy huffed, indignant in her response. “There’s no need to be quite so amazed. It’s actually a pretty normal activity, one even I’ve engaged in once or twice before over the years.” She pushed at his chest impatiently to move him out of the way and get past, and, mind churning painfully over her previous declaration, he shuffled back obediently at her touch without really thinking. 

“But- but-“ He stammered after her retreating back, and just about had the wherewithal to grasp at her elbow before she disappeared completely. Drawing her back to him gently, her confused blue eyes met his own. He exhaled heavily before being able to speak again. 

“But what, Steve?” Darcy gazed up at him, uncomprehendingly. “It’s a date. A blind date. People date, you know. It’s a whole thing. There’s websites. Phone apps. TV shows, even.” She listed them off on her fingers whilst her words spilled out, her speech picking up speed and he could tell that she wasn’t really on-board with what she was saying. 

“But what about Bucky?” He said heartily and Darcy’s eyes opened as wide as they could possibly go and she reeled back from him as though he’d slapped her. She jerked her arm away from him, he’d only been loosely holding onto her, and the sudden movement allowed her to take advantage of his shift in balance. She threw a glance around them, looking nervous, hunted even. 

Glaring at him, she turned quickly on her heel and ripped open a closet door, shoving him bodily into it. Taken off guard, he fell through the open doorway into what turned out to be a janitor’s cupboard. Steve winced as a lightbulb smacked him squarely in the forehead and then fell backwards slightly against some shelving as Darcy also forced her way in and shut the door firmly. It plunged them into darkness and Steve struggled to right himself, knocking cans and bottles of disinfectant to the floor as he did so. 

Darcy fumbled for a moment, accidentally – probably – hitting him in the arm as she hunted for the light switch, and then with a sharp click the lightbulb flickered into action. Steve found himself chest-to-face with a furious looking brunette. Unconsciously he edged himself backwards from her. 

“Confidential information, Rogers.” She hissed. 

Steve, words failing him, just stared at her; open-mouthed in response. 

Darcy brought a hand to her forehead, pushing back dark curls and rocked back on one heel, giving him wide eyes again and shaking her head vigorously at him. Or possibly just in general. 

“Darce, I-“ He began. 

“No.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “No, don’t say a word. Not one word, Rogers.” Her lip wobbled as she finished, and he fixed her with a deep frown. She began shaking her head again, squeezing her eyes tight shut, and without thinking he took one step forward and enveloped her in a hug, crushing her firmly into his chest. 

He could hear vague, muffled, protestations from her but opted to squeeze harder instead. 

Eventually she managed to wriggle downwards and out of his embrace, holding her arms out in front of her warily and looking an awful lot like a character in a movie she’d made them all watch a month or so previous. Something with dinosaurs; some kind of theme park, he couldn’t quite remember. It wasn’t important. 

“Steve.” She said, her tone serious. “You can’t go around saying that out loud, where people can hear it.” 

“I thought you won the bet?” His eyebrows knit together in honest confusion. She’d orchestrated some ridiculous bet a few weeks previously, designed to take both Stark’s money and prove that she could get one over on them all. Naturally, she’d won; after pushing them all into the direction she wanted them to go and then swinging it back the other way and winning the bet. 

It had all been over hers and Bucky’s relationship. 

Or lack thereof, as far as everyone else was concerned. 

And, actually lack thereof, as far as Darcy and Bucky were concerned. 

But then. 

But then there was also Darcy’s confession to Steve, her deep blue eyes serious and pretty mouth twisted into a shy smile as she told him what really he’d known for some time, had he properly given it some consideration; that actually she had fallen for Bucky. That she loved him.   
And then.

And then there was Bucky. Bucky who wasn’t quite the man he’d been before the war, and thankfully wasn’t really much of the man he’d been after the war, and who gazed after Darcy like she was the sun, the moon and the stars to him. Who demanded her attention regularly and got it, whenever he needed it, and still didn’t realise what that meant. That she’d drop whatever she was doing, just to drive him miles to get the brand of dog-food he’d arbitrarily decided was the best one for a dog that didn’t even belong to him. 

Bucky who’d nearly broken when Steve’s light-hearted and poorly-timed joke about being a bother to Darcy had gone badly west and had sat, unspeaking, for the most of the morning on Steve’s couch, locked into his own thoughts. Steve guiltily watching alongside him, not knowing how best to help his friend along. 

“Yeah,” Her eyes dropped from his. “I did win the bet.” 

By denying there was anything between them. 

“So-“

“It’s not up for public consumption, Steve.” Her small face slipped back up towards his and she looked drawn and pale in the harsh yellow light cast from the single light-bulb, swinging gently between them as they faced off against one another. “I can’t- he doesn’t-“

“Bucky adores you.” He spoke with conviction, and crooked a smile at her. 

Darcy sighed heavily. “He can’t handle being alone. He still has nightmares, for one. He wakes sometimes, even when he comes to me in the middle of the night and takes up too much mattress, he wakes with sweat and tears, Steve.” Her words hammered into him. It wasn’t anything he didn’t already know, but they never really spoke about it. Bucky had made so much progress it seemed counter-intuitive to talk about the ways in which he was still struggling. 

“I-“ She faltered, shifting awkwardly from side to side before continuing. “You know how I feel about him. But what do you want from me? What could you possibly expect? I give him what I think he needs, and I – and I will always do that. But what- you think he can be in a relationship? You think he can date? Come on, Steve.”

He couldn’t deny what she’d said, no matter how his blood and ire raged inside him and fought to argue it, despite the logic he was faced with. And her expression, which belied all she’d said and told him exactly how she cared for Bucky. As if he didn’t know already. 

“And this is?” He said, hopelessly. 

She shrugged, not meeting his eyes properly. “Jane set it up. Some scientist dude, I don’t know. I’m being polite, Steve.” Her words were heavy and her eyes dropped to the floor again. “But what am I supposed to do?” She repeated quietly, and he thought it was as much for her benefit as his. 

It was his turn to sigh. 

“I’ve got to go.” She said, twisting her mouth into an awkward little smile, that wasn’t really a smile and fooled neither of them. “Lots of paperwork, you know. Science waits for no girl.”

With nothing more, she pushed open the closet door and left him awkwardly slumped against shelves of industrial cleaning products and wondering how his life had become so secondhandedly difficult. As he moved to right himself properly, the light-bulb swung back once more and hit him between the eyes. He groaned. 

*****

 

Later that evening, he caught a brief glimpse of Darcy as she slunk out of the front door, trying to avoid prying eyes. Smart black heels and a midnight blue dress which sparkled brightly under the spotlights which lined the pathway down to the curb, clung to every curve she had and accentuated them all. Curls tamed for once and hung loose across her back, swinging lightly as she slipped into the back of a taxi carefully. 

Bucky joined him at the window and stared out alongside him. He’d been a little quiet, since the breakfast thing. A little less ready to jump on Darcy’s heels. More distant from her. A little distant from him. Or possibly Steve’s conscious was just doing a guilty two-step and, spying an opportunity, his overactive imagination had jumped on the bandwagon for a little fun. 

“Where’s Darcy?” Bucky asked mildly, and Steve fought back a panicked response, swallowing hard before turning to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder and responding in a jovial tone. 

“She’s out with a friend for a bit, Buck.” Steve plastered a grin over his face that he didn’t really feel like sporting, and Bucky cocked a hesitant smile back at him in return. “But she left us a movie. Want to watch?” The other man paused for a moment, digesting the new information that Steve had fed him, then nodded slowly. 

“Right.” Steve said, more cheerfully than he felt. “Popcorn?”

An hour later, and Steve was lost. They were sprawled across the couch in a way that would have garnered complaints had anyone else been there, but apparently Saturday night was a time that the others made and actually kept plans. Lucky was stretched out happily in front of the couch, Bucky somehow comfortable flopped forward on his stomach and flesh hand tangled softly in soft fur, alternately tickling and scratching the dog. The oversized television blared with yet more barely-there plot and flashed up scene after scene of barely-clothed people overacting and mugging for the camera. 

He was lost because he had no clue what was going on in the film, having been checking his phone every two minutes on the minute, as though he were some teenage kid hoping for a message from some no-doubt-dreamy crush. 

Except actually he was waiting – hoping – on a text from Darcy and then, suddenly, he was in possession of it. 

Date awful. Worst date ever. Request emergency e-vac, pronto. Over. 

“Buck,” he said slowly, eyes fixed on the small text splashed across his phone, head tilted to one side as he read it again. “We just need to pop out for a bit, okay?”

*****

Darcy stabbed at her spaghetti and tried her best to look interested. 

He seemed nice enough. No stalker vibes – yet, anyone on the New York dating scene for any length of time, no matter how brief, knew not to assume anything until cold hard evidence was presented to the contrary – but there was no way she was going to be able to make the whole evening through listening to why he thought that the Papaloizou–Pringle instability theory was inherently flawed. 

That was the only reason she’d put the call out for help.   
The only reason.   
Stop giving me that look, Steve. She grumbled internally at Steve’s face which had wandered uninvited into her head and was silently judging her life choices. 

Despite herself, her mind flicked past Steve and went to Bucky. She wondered what he was doing. Whether he’d had dinner. What he’d had for dinner. How much of that hypothetical dinner had ended up in the dog. She looked down at what was left of her own and wondered about the social implications of asking for a doggy bag in a fancy restaurant, whilst on a date, to take home for another man. 

As she was pondering that particular sticky branch of polite etiquette – and whether she really cared about performing to other peoples’ expectations – the door blew up.

“Get down.” She hissed, kicking her date hard on the shin and slipping off her own chair. She crawled around to his side of the table on her hands and knees, inwardly cursing the inevitable rips she was going to rend on the hem of the dress for doing so. 

Reaching the other side and finding him prone in his seat, forkful of food still halfway to his mouth and a stunned look on his face; she rolled her eyes and pulled him bodily off the chair and onto the floor with her. “How the hell did you get a job with Stark Industries if your survival instincts are on a par with inanimate objects?” She grumbled under her breath. 

Other diners had dropped to the floor, some turning over tables and crouching behind them. Darcy took a deep breath and realised she had now pretty much exhausted her knowledge of survival techniques. This is what I get for attempting to date, she thought. 

“Hey – it’s, it’s Captain America!” An incredulous shout from the other side of the room had Darcy popping up from behind the table like a meerkat, one palm flat on the table and the other hand adjusting her glasses to see better. It was. It was - 

“Steve?” Darcy took in the full picture, Captain America suit, shield and cocked gun. “Jesus – is that – is that a gun?” Her voice faltered and took on a higher pitch on the last word, her mouth dropping open as she finished, staring at him. 

Steve stared back, fingers tight on the gun and body tensed, Bucky in a similar position poised next to him, sighting his own rifle over Steve’s shoulder and firmly at the middle of Darcy’s date’s chest. 

“You requested an evac?” He said, voice starting to falter as he spoke, watching a deep flush travel over Darcy’s delicate features. Darcy’s mouth dropped open and he could see her brain racing quickly and connecting up the dots. Seconds later, the relay snapped into place and she groaned.

“Okay.” She closed her eyes and ran through the longest scientific term she could remember to calm herself before responding. “There are two really important lessons to be learned from this situation. Firstly, I need to stop having Jane in my phone as Science!Girl and always remember to double-check before sending. Secondly-”

Steve attempted a smile in her direction and she lost the calm. 

“Normal people know that the dating SOS message means you call me and pretend that there’s some awful, slightly unlikely but crucially plausible emergency so I can leave the date with a decent excuse that he can’t argue against.” She pointed behind her as the words burst out of her, using her gesture to punctuate the word ‘he’, and her cuckolded date who was cowering at the other side of the table, leaned forward and snatched up his plate to hold over his crotch. 

“Everyone’s happy, no one has a laser floating around their sternum.” 

Darcy’s date thought privately to himself that this was absolutely the last time that he was going to accept a blind date invitation and no matter what his sister had to say about it, Tinder was going to be his preferred option from here on out. 

Steve, having dropped his shield to his side and holstered the gun, awkwardly made a small wave at the other man. Bucky, stood slightly behind Steve, merely re-adjusted the sighting on his rifle and the red dot which had been trained on the other man’s chest travelled upwards and rested between his eyes. 

“Not that you turn up half an hour later with live firearms and a helicarrier.” She paused, rubbed her hands over her face briefly, then ran her eyes over the pair of them once more. “Please tell me you didn’t actually bring the helicarrier …?” 

“Quinjet.” He mumbled, not looking at her face. 

Darcy rolled her eyes, then stepped forward and jabbed Steve in the chest with her index finger as a new thought – a really worrying thought – occurred to her. “Wait. If you two knuckleheads are in here, who’s flying the jet?”

Steve winced and opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off before he could do so. 

“Just checking in on you, Lewis. You know how we worry.” Stark’s amplified voice boomed through the restaurant, dripping with undisguised glee at the turn of events. “This was so worth ditching the opera.”

Darcy threw herself into an abandoned seat and, grabbing her glass, chugged down the last of her wine. Could she have been bothered to reach it, she’d’ve preferred what was left in the bottle. Looking up at Steve and Bucky, the captain a bundle of remorse and awkwardness packed into six foot and change of star-spangled muscles – he’d even put the suit on, for pete’s sake – the soldier still poised and ready for war at his side, Darcy finally allowed herself to laugh at the absurdity of the whole situation. 

“Third thing. If you can’t check with me what something means, check with Pepper. Only Pepper. Email, call, text, Skype her – send a carrier pigeon if you have to. Never, ever act on anything without checking and for god’s sake never ask Tony.”

“You’re no fun.” The disembodied voice echoed around the now mostly empty restaurant and Darcy threw him a rude hand gesture in the rough direction of the jet which conveyed her thoughts on his part in the whole affair more eloquently than she was able to do so with words. 

“Right, well.” She said, getting to her feet and brushing down her dress, trying not to focus too hard on the dirty marks around the bottom of it she’d gained from crawling across the floor commando-style. “I think we’re pretty much done here. Steve, come on. Bucky, gun down.” The dark-haired man instantly dropped the rifle to his side. Steve slipped his hand over hers briefly and squeezed, face contrite. 

She paused, and turned back to her date, who was now sitting slumped in a chair, jacket half-on and tie-askew. Darcy resisted the temptation to step forward and fix it for him. All in all, she’d done enough to him. “Um. Sorry about … Everything.” She awkwardly swept a hand at the devastation surrounding them. 

“I did have a nice time, Robin.”

“Robert.”

“Robert.” She echoed, and figuring that she should cut her losses and work as much as she was able on damage limitation, she gave him a weak smile and trailed after Steve. 

Once outside, she was grateful to note that the Quinjet had disappeared; although people in the street were throwing them curious looks as they passed. Steve, never an easy man to miss, even when he wasn’t in full gear, and Bucky at his side, tactical assault rifle slung nonchalantly across his shoulder. 

“Darce-“ 

“Can we just go home?” She cut him off with a tired smile, and Steve nodded. 

Somehow managing to find a taxi that didn’t baulk at the sight of Bucky, Steve slipped in the front seat alongside the driver who spent half his time looking adoringly at the blond man to his right. Darcy, wedged in next to Bucky in the back seat, stared out of the window as city block after city block rolled past. 

“I missed you.” Bucky said softly, and she turned her head to find him gazing down at her. Dark hair tumbling across his earnest face and partially hiding his eyes from her. She reached up and tenderly brushed it aside, tucking what she could behind his ear and letting her palm rest against his cheek. She could smell aftershave on him, together with a heady lavender scent that was probably shampoo. She breathed him in and a little smile appeared on her lips. 

“Missed you, too.” She whispered, and lay her head into his shoulder.


End file.
